


Last Man Standing

by Tarlan



Category: Alien Series, Aliens (1986)
Genre: Angst, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-07-23
Updated: 2009-07-23
Packaged: 2017-10-18 16:53:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/191092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tarlan/pseuds/Tarlan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It wasn't death that should be feared but the manner in which it came to pass.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Last Man Standing

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Smallfandomfest FEST05

Hicks had known Hudson for years; he had fought by his side in one off-world battle after another as part of the USCM - the United Space Colonial Marines. They'd faced down terrorists on Alba 4 and had been part of the peacekeeping force on New Lincoln during the heaviest part of the bitter civil war that had raged between the agriculturists and the miners. They had both stared down the barrels of enemy guns, relying on each other and the rest of their unit to pull their asses out of the danger zone.

They'd buried good soldiers together, and it was only Hudson's inability to cut out the wisecracks that had seen Hicks promoted to corporal while Hudson spent his service years as a private.

Like most of the other marines in the unit, Hudson had the necessary mix of gung-ho and insanity; full of bullshit, believing he was invincible, and maybe that had stood him in good stead in the past. Maybe they had all needed that edge of insanity to survive some of the shit they had faced, wearing it like the mental equivalent of their heavy-duty body armor.

This mission should have been no different from all the others even though it had started off badly enough with no briefing before they went into cryosleep, and then awakening to discover they'd gained a green lieutenant for a commanding officer rather than a leader they could trust. It wasn't even their first bug hunt, though none of them had ever managed to see a real alien life form other than the parasitic company men from Wayland-Yutani. Hicks knew for a fact that none of them believed aliens even existed, putting it down to the overactive imagination of some dumbass colonist, and yet Hicks had noticed the haunted look in Ripley's eyes when she spoke of the alien she had encountered.

Still, he'd not wanted to believe her, and her description of the alien had sounded so fantastical that it had made it easier for all of them to dismiss her words; acid for blood, and impregnating its human host with its larvae. Yet the insect world was full of creatures that fed off another, like the wasp that lay its egg in a holly leaf miner, the hatching larva feeding off the miner from the inside. Biology had never been Hicks' strongest subject at school but he'd remembered that gruesome fact, fascinated by the concept like most boys his age.

Had Hudson recalled those same biology lessons?

Until this mission, he had trusted Hudson to watch his back. The man could gripe, clown around and whine with the best of them but Hudson had always been there for him. Now Hicks didn't know what to think, seeing Hudson reduced to near-hysteria after their first encounter with real, bug-like and incredibly nasty aliens. Gone was the soldier who had stared death in the face with an insane grin, replaced instead by this terrified man who had finally come to realize that it wasn't death that should be feared but the manner in which it came to pass.

For his own part, Hicks had made a promise to Ripley that he wouldn't let the aliens take her for a host. Hell, he'd promised to do both of them before allowing that to happen. That was the only difference between this and every other conceivable death; the fear of being cocooned, of begging for death before the alien growing inside burst out from its prison of flesh and rib cage, just as the cocooned female colonist had begged before the alien had chewed a hole right through her chest.

Looking back now, Hicks hadn't been able to save Hudson from being taken, hadn't been able to prevent him from joining Apone and Dietrich in the sub-basement beneath the cooling towers, but a forty megaton explosion had made certain none of them had lived long enough to suffer through the final agony of an alien's birth. What he did recall instead was the way Hudson had faced his death on his feet, firing round after round into the attacking aliens while the cowardly Burke had turned and fled, deserting them, trapping them.

On a distant world, Hudson had faced his worst nightmare and, although his initial reaction had been unworthy of a man bearing the insignia of the USCM, he had died valiantly on his feet, protecting his team and the surviving civilians entrusted into their care.

Looking in the mirror, Hicks winced a little at the sore patches of healing skin, grateful for the modern advances in medicine that ensured he wouldn't have to live with an acid burned face and body. He straightened his dress uniform and cap, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath before letting it out slowly. Opening his eyes, he faced his reflection once more and nodded tightly, mentally prepared for this final goodbye to his old unit.

The military cemetery was peaceful and he half-listened to the basic service, only focusing his attention when Colonel Gabeson began reciting the names of the fallen. With each name came a memory of good times, of heroic acts of bravery; Gorman telling him to go on while he went back for Vasquez, finally showing his true heroic colors. With Hudson's name came that final moment of seeing him overcoming his fear and standing his ground, and of trying to hold on as Hudson was pulled beneath the flooring by one of the creatures.

As the final echo of the rifle salute drifted away on the breeze, Hicks allowed his eyes to glance over the commemorative stone, and the names carved into its face. All of them gone with not even a body to bring back to a loved one. Apone's wife was crying softly, his kids hanging onto their momma; Spunkmeyer's parents looked shell shocked, and Ferro's younger brother stood tall in his USCM uniform, having followed in big sister's footsteps. As he scanned the sea of faces, knowing some only from the photographs taped up inside lockers or from locker room chatter, he caught a pair of blue eyes watching him and recognized Hudson's sister from the family photos.

As the service came to an end, she came up to him and he flinched beneath her grief and anger-filled eyes, waiting for her to ask why he had survived when everyone else had perished. Instead, her eyes traveled across his sore but healing face. She reached out to touch his cheek.

"My brother?"

"Was a marine...to the end."

She nodded, accepting his words with a bitter twist to a smile. "He liked serving with you and the rest of the unit. Four weeks and he would have been out of there...but I know he didn't want to leave. He loved you guys...all of you. He was going to sign up for another tour." She walked away before he could respond but her words sank deeper than any of the ones spouted by the psychiatrist he'd been forced to see.

Hudson had chosen this life. They had all chosen this life; traveling between the stars to quell unrest and to protect civilians wherever they were needed. Perhaps he had felt guilty for being the last man standing when all the rest of his unit had died but, for the first time since Acheron, he stopped wishing he had died with them. While he lived, he would keep their spirit alive.

END


End file.
